don't die press

Terrarium Poem

by , on
2019-05-22

excerpt from a poem by Heather Lee Rogers

if the plant is spiky

and lives in a jar

safe from the black thumb

safe from the black cat

if the plant is spiky

can it draw my lost blood

if the plant’s in a jar

can it clean my dead air

Read the rest of Heather’s poem in the upcoming S/tick Issue 4.2!

In the meantime, check out more of Heather’s work at www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com.

Dandelion

by , on
2019-05-17

excerpt from a poem by Jennifer Leider

grimed streetlamps light
pavement plagued with glass
straining—the moon doesn’t come around here
police sirens sing strawberry blueberry

and your hair smells like papaya
youthful energy
in the skulking night gangs
baby-faced boys with jutting chins
hoping guns turn them men
they won’t bother us anyways

this bodega smells like
donkeys and cigarettes and sulfur
we heave ourselves over the fence
to the neighborhood pool
your dad thinks you like boys

Read the rest of Jennifer’s poem in the upcoming S/tick Issue 4.2!

In the meantime, check out Jennifer’s Instagram @followtheleider.

Wood County News, 1882

by , on
2019-05-06

excerpt by Suzanne Ondrus
from The Death of an Unvirtuous Woman

The incident began Saturday night:
First stab
into her ear,
    that perceived the babies’ colic
and scarlet fever wails.
    A slice from
the side
    of her mouth
out through her
        cheek
    that never was on a pillow
more than five hours.
He thrust
    through and
through
    creating
trenches.
    She screamed,
pounded back.
    With the corn knife, she could do
the corn fast, ten ears in three minutes.

Watch for the rest of the poem, and more from Suzanne Ondrus, in S/tick 4.2, coming your way soon!

In the meantime, visit Suzanne at suzanneondrus.com, and order her book at www.littleredtree.com/suzanne-ondrus! @suzanneondrus

A first peek at S/tick 4.2

by , on
2019-04-30

An excerpt of “The Savior” by Kika Dorsey

You said your hunting was only sacrifice,

to put the red heart of elk on table.

You said your climbing ladders

was a way to hang me

on the red dawn of ambition,

that every father is dead,

every son a climber,

and I said I never chose to live with sacrifice,

and now all I know is loss.


Read the rest of “The Savior” in the upcoming S/tick Issue 4.2, chock-full of feminist creative writing and artwork. And check out more from Kika at her website, kikadorsey.com.